


more deer than human being

by achilleis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3385766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleis/pseuds/achilleis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beauty, we quiver before it.” A countdown of five moments Lavellan reminded Solas of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more deer than human being

**Author's Note:**

> Quote from Donna Tartt's 'The Secret History'.

"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beauty, we quiver before it.”

 

v.

A sheen of sweat and dust coated her forehead. Panting shallow breaths and trying to still the arms that still trembled from adrenalin. He stood, hidden from her view, taking a moment to admire her strength. 

Corypheus banished to the fade. Perhaps to seek out that darkened city that had corrupted him and claim its throne for his own. Perhaps to search for an escape. 

There was something awful about such a fate, something abhorrent about the woman who trapped him there. Something familiar. 

She made a quiet noise, akin to a sob, and turned to face the light that streamed from between the rolling clouds. The light caught her in such a way that Solas’ heart fell. 

She was beautiful. 

 

iv.

Solas clutched his staff nearer to his chest - heart pressing against his ribcage prepared to burst. It had to be her of course. She - Lavellan, no one else - took a step into the calm water. Just touching her ankles now, lapping at the leather binds that he removed so reverently the night before this. 

“Please,” his voice came out coarse, surprising him. “ _Ma vhenan_ , please. _Garas_.”

But she heed no attention to the elf leaning on his staff, trying to stay upright and not fall to his knees for her. She took another step into the hungry well. Lavellan was serene, no other way to describe the blissful mask that she reflected. 

He opened his mouth to call once more for her attention, closing it when she uttered a small moan. The well reached her knees now. 

Solas straightened his back to try and steady himself. He would not beg for a hopeless cause. 

The witch looked at him with blank eyes. 

 

iii.  


He watched her from behind the crowd, noting her tense shoulders and curt replies to the commander. She moved through rows of extravagantly adorned guests, concentrating on some goal Solas had little knowledge of. 

A nod. She had decided the fate of Empress Celene. 

It was death, of course. 

His eyes kept only on Lavellan as the grand duchess pressed her blade into the soft flesh of a lower back and called out to her brother. Alas! How she moved too slowly to save the ruler of Orlais, staff held in one hand, and the ripples of fade energy surrounding her. 

It was only later, when the duchess had been apprehended that Solas looked at Lavellan again. 

Blood stained her feet and her dress was torn to the knee from running. Her hair had fallen out of the tight hold it was pulled into hours before and jewelled hairpins teetered on jumping off into the abyss.

When she took his hand and led him towards a dark corner he could do little but shiver, noting how similar her expression was when she decided the empress Celene’s death. Focused. 

 

ii. 

Her lack of consideration for the Viscount of Kirkwall’s life made Solas feel a hint of pride. Perhaps she even enjoyed sending the man to his doom. The blood mage who despised magic and sold his friends into slavery, according to Varric. They had heard the stories of Hawke’s violent affair with the mage that destroyed the Kirkwall chantry before finally executing him on the night of his revolution. 

There was little hesitation hiding behind the inquisitor’s dark eyes and nothing to acknowledge his sacrifice. As she left through the rip in the fade without looking back and found herself facing the dwarf who respected the champion so dearly she muttered a quiet and insincere “sorry”.

It was only days after that she confessed to Solas. 

“The champion was loved once…”

_Am I, too, a monster?_

  
  
i.

Ruthless and efficient. Too many eyes staring at her to make a decision so crucial and so soon after waking from a deep slumber that very nearly overwhelmed her. 

She furrowed her eyebrows and nodded to herself before looking at Seeker Pentaghast. They would charge with the soldiers, she confirmed. The scouts must sacrifice themselves for the betterment of Thedas. 

Solas followed the trails of _vallaslin_ that curved around her cheeks and lead down behind her scarf. Elgar’nan - god of vengeance and the sun, according to the disjointed Dalish mythos. 

There was something hidden in her stony expression that made Solas uneasy. 

Something made him certain that if the Dalish had not demonised Fen’harel, the slave markings of a wolf might have been staring back at him. 


End file.
